Monster Hunter: Beginnings
by Itzpointysuperman
Summary: Do not feed the werewolves.
1. Chapter 1

The pots tinged and tittered faintly but just audibly from my downstairs kitchen. I looked up from my studies and listened. Something glass broke on the floor followed by a muffled, 'Thwump!' Shit! I thought fervently as I pulled a .45 magnum out from under my studies desk. I then crept stealthily towards the door to the down stairs. It opened with a faint squeaking of hinges and I started down the steps into the engulfing darkness. The smell hit me like a sledge hammer swung from a world class body builder.

"Ack!" was all I could muster as I grabbed hold of the sandalwood railing. I screwed up my courage and, against my every instinct which screamed at me to run and hide, took another step down the stairs. Just as my bare feet finally touched down on the hardwood floor, I heard a sickening growl from somewhere in front of me. I stopped in my tracks, and tried to remain as still as possible. I fought down the urge to run with a desperate need to survive. If I ran the thing which now stalked me in this dark, ancient house would surely rip my throat out simply by pure instinct.

But if I didn't move, the bastard was sure to attack me at some point when it found an exposed spot. My foot lifted soundlessly and set back down on the bottom step with a slight creak. Then all hell broke loose. The monster flew from the shadows like a bat out of hell, its eyes a bright crimson and full of hungry, murderous intent. Its body, like that of a man, but covered in dark brown fur with long, jagged claws and a snout with a mouthful of sharp bloodstained teeth just under it. The werewolf attacked me with a burning fury, slashing and biting at me with its claws and teeth.

My arms were otherwise occupied with fending off the monster's deadly incisors so I could not get a clear shot. Its claws raked long, deep incisions into the muscle of my back and I screamed in pure white hot agony. The pistol, still gripped in my now scarred and bloody hand suddenly curved up and right into the creatures huge, ugly muzzle.

"Eat this motherf****er!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as I pulled the trigger. Gray matter and dark scarlet blood spewed forth from where its head had once been. It covered my whole face before the pressure subsided. I pushed the now quickly decomposing corpse off of me and tried to stand. I only succeeded in falling flat on my face. As the world faded to black around me and dark circles swam above my vision, I only had time enough wonder why my whole back felt so warm, and why the rest of me felt so cold.


	2. Chapter 2

I hate needles. Always have, always will. So when the nice, kind and gentle doctor tries to invade one of my many hundreds of veins with one, I kinda flip out.

"What the hell buddy?" I yell just before he sticks me with one of those pointy sharp things that suck your blood. The doc jumps back in surprise as I swing my legs off of the bed and onto the cold floor of an emergency ambulance.

"Dear Sweet Baby Jesus!" the doc exclaimed in awe. "It's a bloody miracle!"

"More bloody than miracle." I grunted as I tried to stand.

"Wait a minute now, you can't stand up! You're in a moving vehicle in intensive care with claw marks all over you! Sit- No, lie down NOW!" The doctor was near hysteria as I checked my body over. Not bad really, the claw marks on my back were already mending themselves and most of the smaller scratches were gone. _Wait a minute! I should be dead! And even if I hadn't of died, I would have been in the E.R. running on machines!_

"What the-?" Before I could finish the sentence I was thrown sideways as the ambulance and all of its expensive medical equipment and pointy objects tipped at a ninety degree angle. I must've bumped my head on something because the last things I remember are the ambulances emergency strobe lights blinking furiously, making ghosts appear in front of my eyes. And again the darkness took me.

The forest was dark and misty as I sped through it, going deeper and deeper until I was sure their was no way of finding my way out. That didn't matter. What mattered was what was chasing me. Hell has a messenger, some call him death, others the harbinger. Still others call him Gabriel. I am one of those others. Gabriel was trying to send me a message, but to be perfectly honest; I'm not so sure I want to receive it. So I run. I ran like the devil himself is on my heels. Gabriel isn't the devil, but he's close enough in my opinion. And he just so happens to be MY guardian angel. He's a shitty angel.

He's like one of those babysitters that always act like saints when the parents are around, but turns out to be a real bitch when they disappear. That is why I'm running from him or it now. _Must reach the cave! Must reach the cave!_ I didn't know why I needed to reach the cave, or even where it was. But I did know that if I didn't find it fast I wouldn't live till morning. I trip, and strike my face against a rock, and again the darkness comes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 _Sorry about the short chapters, but this is about as long as they are gunna get. My mind works in mysterious ways. Any way, here's the chapter, enjoy! And Biocide, Thanks for the tip, I tried adding more description to the scenes. Without further adue I give you, Chapter 3_

The ambulances emergency lights blinded me when I tried to open my eyes, so I had to wait for them to adjust. Only after my eyes got used to the lights constant blinking and I got over my pounding migraine, did I try to survey the scene before me. I would have jumped back in surprise and fear were it not for my survival instinct. A huge, sharp, thick syringe was mere centimeters from my left eye. _Oh God Oh god Holy F**k sonuvabitch!_ If I had sat up just a little farther, I would've skewered my eye for sure.

I raised my right hand to remove the syringe which dangled from a bundle of sloppily curled tubing. I quickly picked it out of the tubes and flung it across the back of the ambulance.

"I. Hate. Needles. So freaking much…. doctors too." I grumbled as I willed my body to stand. It wasn't easy, since the ambulance was on its side and my left foot was currently enraptured in that blasted medical tubing. It was only then that I noticed the doc. I also noticed that a whole chunk of ambulance was missing from the right front half of it. Needles, tubing, and medicines lay strewn across the floor, or side of the vehicle. The doc was splayed out on the floor with the medical gurney laying just off to his right, its back left wheel spinning soundlessly. A bone saw had impaled him just above his sternum. His arms and legs moved weakly as he struggled to call for help or make any sound at all in the hopes of getting help. Crimson red blood covered the entirety of his lower jaw and thick, snotty gobs of it were seeping out of his nostrils as he struggled to breathe.

"M-M-u-Mu-Mu-." Was all he could enunciate before his eyes went wide and his handsome, yet experienced face contorted into one of the ugliest grimaces I have ever seen in my entire life. He then fell into a coughing fit, blood, gore, and spittle congealing in a puddle next to his head, and lay still. _What could have done this? _I thought. _Accident? No. Too much damage to be an accident, and why is no one screaming to get through, or taking pictures that will be in 'The Daily'? Why no people?_ These thoughts raged through my head as I made my way towards the front of the ambulance. _Maybe the driver is still alive. _I thought hopefully.

These hopes were dashed when I saw the huge spattering of blood that covered what was left of the front seat and steering wheel. They were utterly annihilated when I saw the lower half of the driver. She, I could only guess it was a she by the shape of the hips, or the lower part of her anyway, was sprawled in the drivers seat in a running position, while the other, top half, hung just outside the dash window. Her entrails and bodily fluids making a trail down the hood of the car. It was then that I realized that it was raining outside, and raining hard. _I hate Mondays. _I admonished as I went back to collect some necessary items.


	4. Chapter 4

As I stepped shakily out of the ambulance out into the heavy Chicago rain, I realized two things. One was that I had a killer headache. The second was that I had just witnessed the very gruesome and untimely death of three human beings. _Well, _I thought. _That was disturbing. _No sooner had the thought gone through my head than a wave of terrible; gut wrenching nausea over took me.

"Herl-." What I knew to be my breakfast suddenly travelled its way back up my esophagus and back out of the hole that it had, at least in the beginning, been shoved into. Bile and other unrecognizable things suddenly spewed forth from my heaving, coughing mouth and onto the tar black street. I then doubled over and experienced extreme discomfort for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes. _Oh God oh God make it stop! Just please make it stop! _

As if in response to my pleas, what was left of my Sunday meal took it upon itself to recede back into the stomach from whence it had been regurgitated. The smell of bile hung heavy in the air and I had to pinch my nostrils closed with one thick calloused hand, slick with puke. Luckily, I was able to find a towel in one of the ambulances side cabinets.

"God, if this is the way you show that you love me, then do me a favor and love me less." Right as I finished my last sentence, the remainder of my Sunday meal tried to fight its way back up and out of its organic prison.

"Ack! Ok ok I'm sorry! I take it back!" Just as fast as the feeling of imminent regurgitation had come, it passed. Leaving me feeling empty and exhausted. I hate Mondays. The helpings from the other day were already being washed away by the rain and then greedily swallowed into the nearest gutter. Putting one step in front of the other, I trudge tiredly for home.

I own a small ware house down by the docks. The guy who sold it to me used to smuggle weapons in from all over the world to sell to professional hit men, rich, cigar chomping bastards who just want to own an exotic weapon, and even some random folks who just need that extra protection . Yea, I know, sounds crazy, but it's true. His names Jeremy and he's an ogre. Now I can guess what you're thinking, ogres aren't real. Neither are were wolves or things that toss ambulances around like their last month's baby doll. No one wants to believe in or accept any thing we can't under stand. Its just human nature and you can't blame people for it. But the cold hard fact truth is that there are things out their we just don't understand, and denying the existence of these creatures doesn't make them go away. The fact is that their really is such a thing as werewolves and ogres and things that bat cars around like a baby who is playing with monster trucks.

That's where I come in. Well, technically it's not just me; there is a whole organization that deals in the killing, capturing, and study of all types of monsters and creepers. But they are mostly a bunch of hacks that don't give a hoot about who gets hurt in the process. Now I'm no activist saying that it's wrong to kill monsters and that they are really nice people on the inside, but a few of them are okay. Take Jeremy for instance, he's been trafficking weapons into the U.S. since before the Civil War. He could have spent that time hiding in manholes and adding to the ever growing list of disappearances at the C.P.D., but instead he did the smart thing and actually succeeded in making a fair profit.

Now when I say "fair profit", that might be a bit of an understatement, as in, Jeremy could buy out all of Russia and Canada combined. I'm not exaggerating either, he keeps all of it stashed somewhere for what he says a rainy day. Well he must mean Armageddon, because he could certainly afford a bunker on some distant planet where all you eat is astronaut food and float in zero gee. I met him a couple years back during a gang shootout somewhere in the south part of town. It was a fairly small affair, considering that both sides only had one gun each, and then their was the fact that they consisted of a very old and rusty .22 snub nosed revolver with only two rounds loaded, and an old Derringer that someone had found while on a snatch and grab in some ones home. The rest of us had knives, pipes, wrenches, shanks and pretty much any thing we could get our hands on. Neither side expected the other side to be packing heat. Both thought it would be over quickly and easily. We couldn't be more wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

**New Chapter, your welcome!**

There were twelve houses on either side of the street. Maple trees lined both sides, the leaves just beginning to change to their more vibrant colors as the season fluctuated from late summer to early fall. Cars, mostly mini vans, were parked here and their in driveways or on the side of the street. Houses of varying brick textures also stood, with shades of, get this, brick reds and something that resembled white marble for color. Every window was dark, and any light which attempted to penetrate any of the houses ever pervading blackness seemed to be swallowed into oblivion. It gave the street an eerie creepiness in the soft afternoon light.

It was an odd location for a gang shootout, most of which happened in the city. The suburbs were usually devoid of any action what so ever. But not today, today this small neighborhood would get more action in five minutes than Charlie Brown at a Christmas party. It was quiet, calm, peaceful. A soft breeze blew in from the east, birds chirped in the late afternoon sun. It seemed as though the whole neighbor hood was at peace. But I knew better. I could practically feel the tension crackling in the air like live electric wires. I took a few deep, quavering breaths to calm my already frayed nerves and visibly forced myself to relax. I had never killed a man before, and I'd hoped to completely avoid the incident if at all possible.

We were an odd looking bunch, that's for sure. And we looked totally out of place in the fading September light. Most of us wore hoodies, or dirty, rag tag t-shirts with either jeans or sweats, with worn out sneakers completing the ensemble. But a few of us had clothing that was in better condition, freshly stolen from someone's house most likely. We were city kids, born and bred. All of our parents were poor, most of them working three jobs or more just to pay the rent, let alone buy food for the family. I never did figure out why people who lived in the city got married in the first place. Not to say everyone who lived in the city had the guillotine of poverty constantly hanging over their head, in fact there were plenty of people who were happily successful with an office with a view and their very own mini fridge. We just happened to live in the "poverhoods" as my friends like to call them. Most of us were actually pretty decent kids; we stole because we had to.

It's not like we enjoy it either. Especially when you know that the person you're stealing from is in just a tight spot as you are. But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, and if that involves stealing ol' Ms. Frankenbauk's groceries so your family can have dinner that night, then so be it. The gangs that we were in were more for our own protection than for wanting to be a rebel. It helps to have a couple dozen buddies watchin your back.

That same thought occurred to me as our gang was being rallied by its leader. His name was Joseph Phillip Ackson, but most of us just called him Joe. He was by far the skinniest, and palest kid I have ever laid eyes upon. His wimpy, fragile demeanor might give you a different impression, but underneath that seemingly fragile exterior lies a razor sharp intellect. And even though he looks to be skin and bone, he could actually pass for a world class body builder. You wouldn't believe it by just looking at him, but he can lift anything just under five hundred pounds. He also happened to be a natural born leader, which was good for us. He had been the founder of this little gang from the beginning, and had managed it ever since. I would find out soon enough just exactly what lay underneath that milky white exterior besides a startling intellect. And it would scare me into shocked and terrified silence for a week after.


End file.
